Mind Versus Body
by KT the Shimmer Skank
Summary: When Lizzie can't make sense of her mind, she blames her body. Can anyone save her from herself? *COMPLETE*
1. Heartbreak

Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire or anything that goes with it. I make no profit from this.  
  
Author's Note: I wanted to write a Lizzie fic, but I never imagined this is what I'd come up with. It's lame at times, but it's very true. The rating is PG for now, but I may have to change it in later chapters. Please review, but don't flame. Go flame my other stories, but not this one :)  
  
Warnings: This story contains mainly PG material, but is rated PG-13 for some of the physically disturbing scenes involving eating disorders. There are some dark themes and language.  
  
*1-26-03 Updated Author's Note: This is just a simple warning to readers that this fic is very Movie-Of-The-Week-ish, so be prepared for angst and cheese. This was my first Lizzie McGuire fic, and I really don't hold it up to the same caliber that I try to make my other works reach. But, you know. Read it for what you will.  
  
"Lizzie, did you eat the whole bag already?" asked Mrs. McGuire as she entered her house, picking up a discarded bag of potato chips off the kitchen table. She had bought the chips only a day before.  
  
Lizzie was curled up on the couch, eating M&M's. She looked back at the kitchen, hearing her mother speak. "Oh, sorry Mom," she replied. "I've just been so hungry the past few days. It's almost that time of the month... you know how I get."  
  
Mrs. McGuire laughed softly. "It's okay, sweetie."  
  
Lizzie picked up the remote and turned the television off; she could no longer focus on the tube. She reached into her bag of candy only to find it empty. *I'm still hungry.* she thought to herself, meandering around to the kitchen.  
  
"Are you feeling okay, honey?" asked Mrs. McGuire, sweeping wisps of stray hairs from her daughter's face. "You don't seem yourself today. You're usually bouncing off the walls on the last day of school."  
  
Lizzie flashed her mom a bright, million-dollar smile. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little PMS, that's all." She grabbed and apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter and skipped upstairs to her bedroom. After securing the door behind her, she burst into tears and flung herself onto her bed. Thank god it was over. Thank god Junior High was over forever. She couldn't face any of them ever again.  
  
She gripped her blankets even tighter, pressing her entire body into her matress, hoping it would just swallow her up. The phone rang. Lizzie knew it was Miranda.  
  
*Let it ring* she moaned in her mind. *Just let it ring. Let it ring.*  
  
"Lizzie! Phone for you!" her mother called from downstairs.  
  
At last she lifted her tear-sodden face up from her covers and picked up the cordless phone. "I've got it, Mom!" she yelled back downstairs. Then, hushing to a weak whimper into the phone, "I don't want to talk about it,"  
  
"I figured you wouldn't," said Miranda on the other line. "But you don't have to talk... You can just listen if you want." Lizzie didn't feel like listening, but she did anyway, for Miranda's sake. "He's a jerk. You're waaaay better off without him."  
  
Lizzie spoke in a small, unconvincing voice. "Yeah. I know."  
  
"And besides, you're, like, way too smart for him. Remember, he thought a nail file was a tool organizer? And he spends more time on his hair than you do!" Miranda began to chuckle, laying some bait, but Lizzie wouldn't bite.  
  
"I just want to be alone for awhile. I need to think."  
  
"Sure." Miranda had tried, and failed. Lizzie would just have to get through it on her own. "I'll call you later."  
  
Lizzie hung up the phone as a steady stream of tears continued down her face. She picked up her apple, which was ripe and shimmery, and put it to her lips. She opened her mouth and took a fierce bite of it. She took another, using her teeth to dig her frustration into the crunchy, delicious fruit. *Crunch. Crunch.* She gnawed away at the apple, trying to forget her rejection and humiliation. *Crunch. Crunch.* Within minutes the apple was devoured.  
  
She smothered herself in blankets once again, trying to forget what had happened. After the best two months of her fourteen-year-old world, Ethan Craft had broken up with her. 


	2. Reminiscing

The next morning was the first day of summer vacation. Lizzie stretched her arms as she woke up, and almost smiled. But then she remembered what had happened the day before.  
  
Ethan Craft was her boyfriend. After many short-lived relationships throughout the eighth grade, she had finally been approached by the one guy who was always on her mind. It was regarded by the entire school to be "it" relationship, causing Lizzie to have a sweet ride on the popularity train. Even Kate Sanders had eventually succum to show Lizzie respect when it became apparent that the Lizzie/Ethan hook-up was not the every-day one- week fling.  
  
"What's wrong with me?" she asked aloud, buried beneath her covers.  
  
It felt as if she had spent every waking moment of the past two months with Ethan. How could she possibly get used to being without him. The worst part of it was that he had broken up with her at lunch, for all of the gaping seventh-graders and snickering eighth-graders to see. The whole school had witnessed how the love of her life had rejected her.  
  
As she slowly trudged down the stairs in her pink kitten pajamas, pondering the wretchedness of her life, the smell of chocolate chip cookies tickled her nose. Her suspicions were confirmed when she entered the kitchen and her mother was pulling a fresh batch out of the oven.  
  
Mrs. Mcguire looked over at her daughter and smiled as she scraped the cookies off the sheet and placed them on a rack to cool. "Hey, sleepy head," she said. "I guess it's nice not to wake up early and go school, huh?"  
  
Lizzie nodded meekly and forced and smile. She reached for a cookie and got a swift pat on the hand from her mother.  
  
"Not so fast, young lady. Those are for after lunch."  
  
"Oh," said Lizzie. Once her mother had gone back to the oven, she smuggled a cookie from the rack and quickly exited the area.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Geez, Lizzie, you're acting like a starving Ethopian," Matt complained as Lizzie reached for another cookie from the plate. She ignored him and dunked the cuookie into her milk. After it was good and soggy, she placed it in her mouth and devoured it in one bite.  
  
"You know, if you keep eating like that, you're going to get fat." He laughed wildly at the thought.  
  
Lizzie glared at him acidly, but she was still feeling down and didn't feel like getting into a fight with him. She grabbed a handful of cookies and retreated to her room.  
  
As she lay slumped on her bed, stuffing her face with homemade cookies, her eyes fell upon the necklace Ethan had given her on their one-month anniversary (which, to a junior high student, was a monumental achievement). She would have cried at the sight of it, only she felt she had cried so long yesterday that it would be physically impossible for her to shed another tear.  
  
The phone rang, and it was Miranda. "Hey, girl," she greeted in her ever ecstatic voice.  
  
"Hi, Miranda."  
  
"Are you feeling any better about... you know?"  
  
"Sure. It's not so bad." That was one of the biggest lies Lizzie had ever told.  
  
"That's good to hear. I was thinking we'd go shopping tomorrow if you were up to it. Maybe look at some cute new swimsuits for the summer?"  
  
"Yeah, okay." Anything was better than staying home and moping about Ethan.  
  
"My mom and I will come pick you up tomorrow about 3:00, then. See ya."  
  
"See ya."  
  
Lizzie sat up and walked over to her dresser, where the silver chain necklace was resting. She picked it up and shoved it into one her drawers, where she wouldn't have to look at it. Then she went downstairs to get some more cookies. 


	3. Shopping

Lizzie slept in late again and for breakfast, which really should have been lunch, she had two bowls of Fruit Loops and the rest of the chocolate-chip cookies. She knew Matt would be mad when he discovered there weren't any left, and that thought gave her the slightest hint of happiness. She was just finishing a glass of root beer when Miranda's mom pulled up in the driveway.  
  
"Later, Mom!" Lizzie hollered to the other end of the house. She hurried out the car and slid into the backseat.  
  
Miranda turned around and looked at Lizzie from the passenger's seat. "So, ready to find a hot new swimsuit?"  
  
"You bet," replied Lizzie. It actually gave her a pain inside to think about swimsuits, because it reminded her of Ethan's pool party. *What's the point of getting a cute swimsuit?* she thought sadly to herself, *There's no way I can show up there now.*  
  
Inside the mall, the first place they passed was the pretzel stand. "Mmmm," said Lizzie. "I'm craving sweets. How about a cinnamon pretzel to get energized before we shop?"  
  
Miranda grinned and nodded. "Sure. I'm feelin' that."  
  
Lizzie treated herself to two cinnamon pretzels and lemonade icy. After all, she was dealing with heartbreak and she was cramping. It was the least she could do for herself.  
  
* * * *  
  
"There's no way my mom would ever let me wear this!" Miranda said with a giggle. She was wearing a skimpy red bikini that tied on the sides. "Oh well. It was fun to see how it looked, anyway." As she was sliding it off, she glanced at the price tag. "Ee! I couldn't afford it even if my mom would let me buy it! How can they charge this much for something like a bathing suit?" She held up the red bikini and looked at it in awe. "I mean, there's hardly anything there. There's no way it could be worth that much!"  
  
Lizzie tried to laugh, but it was too hard. Miranda was trying to cheer her up, but to no avail. Lizzie was in no mood to go bathing suit shopping. She far too depressed, not to mention bloated.  
  
She was currently wearing a sparkly purple two-piece, but she didn't like the way it looked on her. She immediately took it off and tried on a simple, navy blue one-piece. She hated it, too.  
  
Miranda finally decided on a bright blue two-piece that had a halter top and boy-cut bottoms. Lizzie followed her to the check-out counter, carrying nothing.  
  
Miranda frowned. "You're not getting anything?"  
  
"I didn't really find anything I liked," Lizzie said meekly.  
  
"Well, we could go to another store."  
  
"No, it's okay." Miranda sighed and left the subject alone.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Do you think we have time to get a slice of pizza before your Mom comes to pick us up?" Lizzie asked. They had just exited American Eagle, where she managed to forget about her sadness long enough to pick out of pair of red spongy sandals.  
  
Miranda gave her a look. "Are you really hungry again?" she asked.  
  
Lizzie shrugged. "It just sounds good right now. I need something saucy to balance out all the sweet stuff I had this morning."  
  
Miranda looked at her watch. "Well, yeah, I guess we have time. The line doesn't look too long."  
  
"Cool."  
  
When Miranda's mom pulled in to Lizzie's driveway, Miranda jumped out of the car and walked Lizzie to the door.  
  
"It's gonna be okay, you know?" she said in her sweetest best-friend voice. "I know it hurts now, but it'll get better soon. I know it will. Bad things just don't last long around good people like you, Lizzie."  
  
Lizzie smiled and nodded to her friend. "Thanks. Maybe you're right." She gave her friend a quick hug and went inside her house. She tossed her AE bag onto the couch and went into the kitchen. She fixed herself a plate of peanut butter on celery sticks and took it into the living room.  
  
She vegged out and watched some TV as a distraction, but at every commericial break, or whenever there was nothing left on her plate to munch on, thoughts of Ethan flooded her mind. 


	4. Girlfriend Material

Miranda was right. After a few days of moping around the house, Lizzie's mood began to lighten up. Gordo came over a couple times to hang out, which really cheered her up. Soon she was beginning to think that she *was* better off without Ethan. He was a terrific friend, but as a boyfriend he was just too overwhelming. *Funny how one day you think you're in love and the next day it's all over,* she thought. *Hopefully high school won't be like that.*  
  
She was becoming so confident in the fact that she was "over" the break-up that she finally decided to give Ethan a call. After all, she still wanted to be friends with him.  
  
She finished off her glass of chocolate milk and picked up the phone. Her fingers began to sweat as she slowly pressed down the seven digits of Ethan's phone number. *Ring. Ring.* Each ring on the other line was a lump forming in her throat.  
  
"Hello?" said Ethan, with the ever-present hint of confusion in his voice.  
  
Lizzie froze. She tried to swallow the many lumps that had collected. She didn't feel quite so confident now. He had broken her heart... in public, no less! What could she possibly say to him? Maybe he didn't even want to be her friend. Maybe he never wanted to speak to her again. Maybe the sound of her voice repulsed him. Maybe...  
  
"Uh... hello?" said Ethan again. *Maybe the phone has a mind of its own,* he thought.  
  
"Hi, Ethan," Lizzie finally choked out.  
  
"Woah! The phone sounds just like Lizzie!"  
  
Lizzie sighed. "No, Ethan, it's me, Lizzie."  
  
"Oh... Yeah. That makes more sense, doesn't it?" Ethan paused for a moment and realized it was the first time he had talked to Lizzie since their break-up. He tried to focus and be serious (although these were incredibly difficult skills for him to master).  
  
Lizzie started to sweat. She leaned against the kitchen counter and absent- mindedly began picking grapes out of the fruit bowl and tossing them into her mouth. "So... how's it going?"  
  
"It's going good." He paused, hoping he hadn't said the wrong thing. "But not, like, in a good way."  
  
"Right. Well, that's... good."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
It was the most painful conversation she could ever remember having. "Listen, Ethan, the reason I called was because I wanted to make sure we were still friends."  
  
Ethan let out a sigh of relief. "That's great. I'm glad you did."  
  
Lizzie beamed, thoroughly pleased not to have been rejected again.  
  
Ethan continued. "I'm totally glad you want to be friends. That's sort of the reason I broke up with you, you know?"  
  
Lizzie wrinkled her nose. She hadn't expected the conversation to go in that direction. "Um... what do you mean?"  
  
Ethan was becoming more comfortable with the situation, and therefore more cocky and less "focused" on what he was saying. "Yeah, I mean, you're such a good friend. It's sort of weird to go out with someone who's your bud. It would be, like, going out with Carlos." He shuddered at the thought of going out with his enormous friend from the football team.  
  
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "But, we got along so well together! We had so much in common!"  
  
"Exactly!" Ethan's tone was chipper and relieved. He didn't realize that Lizzie was defending the relationship; he assumed that she was understanding and agreeing with every word he said. "I'm so glad we talked about this, Liz. I was worried you're feelings might be, like, hurt or something. But I guess you understand you're just not girlfriend material. So... are you coming to my party tomorrow?"  
  
Not girlfriend material? Not girlfriend material?! Lizzie began to panic. Was that why he had broken up with her? She wasn't girlfriend material? It took him two months to figure out she wasn't girlfriend material?  
  
She regained composure and tried to play it cool with Ethan. "Um, yeah, sure. I wouldn't miss it." What was she saying? She didn't want to go that party.  
  
"Great. I'll see you then." He quickly hung up on her.  
  
She felt awful. She felt even worse than the day he had broken up with her. She was suddenly swarming with insecurities. She wasn't girlfriend material, she now had obligated herself to going to her ex-boyfriend's party, and worst of all, she didn't have a cute new swimsuit. 


	5. Comparisons

"It's useless," said Lizzie. "I can't go. You go on without me."  
  
Miranda sighed and placed her hand on her best friend's shoulder. "Don't be stupid. It'll be fine."  
  
Lizzie folded her arms and pouted. She was currently wearing Miranda's leopard print one-piece. She had gone over an hour before the party to prepare, but it was discouraging when she had nothing to wear.  
  
"It won't be fine," she huffed. "None of my old bathing suits fit, and none of your bathing suits fit, and my hair is horrible. I can't go to my ex- boyfriend's party looking like this. Especially not with Kate there."  
  
Miranda, ever the cool-headed, tried to keep Lizzie's spirits up. "It will be fine," she repeated firmly. "Just leave it to me and you'll look fine." She clapped in her hands in a "let's get busy" manner. "Have a seat and I'll take care of your hair. As for the suit, you're going to wear my mom's old one-- its basic black and very exotic." She added those extra details before Lizzie could argue. "Now sit down, we only have half an hour left."  
  
Lizzie threw up her hands in defeat and sat down where she was instructed. Miranda pulled out an assortment of rubber bands, beads, and combs from her vanity and began to violently mold Lizzie's wild blonde hair. Within twenty minutes, Lizzie's hair was pulled tight into chunky, beaded cornrolls.  
  
Miranda motioned for Lizzie to get up and look in the mirror. "You like?" she asked, beaming at her masterpiece.  
  
Lizzie smiled for the first time in a week and nodded. Miranda ran to her mother's room to fetch her mother's swimsuit and brought it back to Lizzie. "Now, hurry up, the clock is ticking!" She paused, and then snuck at glance at herself in the mirror. "Oh man. I still have to get ready!"  
  
Sometime that century, they made it over to Ethan's party. Miranda was decked out her brand new suit with a multi-colored, homemade wrap tied around her waist. Lizzie was jamming with her cornrolls, black suit and Miranda's fringed denim shorts.  
  
The first person Lizzie spotted was Kate, looking just as gorgeous and evil as ever. Fear simmered in the pit of her stomach. In the back of her mind she felt that seeing Kate was even worse than Ethan. After all, in her heart she knew she could forgive Ethan eventually, but her competition with Kate was never-ending.  
  
Kate was wearing a shimmery pink binkini that delicately covered her generous endowments, empasizing her flat stomach and long, shapely legs. She giggled at a joke someone in her circle had told, and twirled her hair through her flowing mass of perfect hair. Her lips were shiny with pink lip gloss and her eyelashes were almost deadly when she batted them. Lizzie tugged at her own irregularly shaped bathing suit, knowing that her appearance wasn't anywhere near Kate's league.  
  
Miranda strolled amongst the crowd waving and smiling at familiar faces. Lizzie followed, but was too self-concious to be her usual cheerful self. She spotted Gordo getting himself a drink and smiled. At least there was one person she never felt insecure around. She seperated herself from Miranda and walked over to Gordo.  
  
"Hey," she said.  
  
Gordo looked up and acknowledged her. "Hi Lizzie," he greeted. "I'm surprised you came."  
  
Lizzie stared at him, taken aback. She hadn't expected to hear something like that from Gordo; Kate, maybe, but definitely not Gordo. "Why would you say that?"  
  
He shrugged. "Well, you were pretty torn on the last day of school. I figured you were still moping about the unfairness of it all. Isn't that what girls do?"  
  
Lizzie rolled her eyes and growled. "For your information, I'm totally over that. And I came here today because me and Ethan have decided to stay friends."  
  
"Ethan and I," he corrected automatically. Then he looked at Lizzie and shook his head, apologizing. "That's a very mature and decisive action, Lizzie. I guess you're a bigger person than I thought you were."  
  
"Yeah, well..." Lizzie picked up a tortilla chip and dipped in salsa. She wasn't sure whether or not she needed to agree with Gordo. Was he belittling her or complimenting her? She shoved the chip in her mouth and prepared another.  
  
Gordo was looking over at the other end of the pool, distracted by something. LIzzie followed his gaze and found what was so distracting. It was Casey Miller, an extremely tall and lanky girl with frizzy brown hair. She was looking fabulous in her blue suit as she dipped her toes in the water.  
  
"I'll, uh, catch you later, Lizzie," Gordo said, grabbing and extra soda and moving towards Casey.  
  
"Yeah, sure..." Lizzie began, but Gordo was already gone. What was she, chopped liver? And since when had Gordo been so confident? She watched as he fearlessly sat beside Casey on the side of the pool and offered her his extra soda. Casey started to giggle. Lizzie was shocked. Was it possible that Gordo had actually made a girl laugh? A real girl, not Lizzie or Miranda.  
  
Lizzie tore her gaze away from Gordo, and her eyes fell upon her other best friend. Miranda was standing in a circle with a few other girls, and all of them were cracking up as she spoke. Miranda's face was animated and enthusiastic as she used her hands to illustrate whatever amusing story she was telling. Her dark skin sparkled with little droplets of pool water and her eyes were radiant with life.  
  
Lizzie looked away. She munched on another chip and hunched over, wishing she could curl up in a ball and be invisible. She felt sick inside, as if she was a blob of nothing standing in a crowd of beautiful creatures. Then, at the worst possible moment, Ethan Craft appeared in her line of sight.  
  
He had approached Kate's clique and was entertaining them with his "wit". He looked as fantastic as he ever did, and Kate looked fantastic standing next to him. *No wonder I got dumped* she thought miserably to herself. *I'm a nothing compared to someone like Kate* She began to chew nervously on her chips.  
  
"Looking hot, Mcguire!"  
  
Lizzie turned slowly in the direction of the speaker, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Thanks, Tudgeman," she replied darkly. It was not the type of compliment she needed to boost her confidence.  
  
She turned away from him and found Miranda beside her. "Hey! Why are you standing here all alone?" she asked. She took Lizzie by the hand and tried to guide her over to the circle of people. "Come on over here and hang out."  
  
Lizzie shook her head insistantly. "No way. I can't go ever there. I look like crap compared to all those people."  
  
"Are you kidding? You look fabulous. Ethan's been looking this way like every five seconds."  
  
"He's probably wondered why I bothered showing up," Lizzie muttered.  
  
"Don't be stupid. It's all in your head."  
  
Lizzie stared colody at Miranda. "Quit feeling sorry for me, okay? I'm a big girl. I can take it. Just leave me alone!" She stormed off from Miranda and went inside the Craft house to call her ride.  
  
Miranda stood there with her jaw dropped. "Woah. That was... weird." 


	6. Pizza

Their waitress was an abnoxious teenager with frizzy red hair, who smacked her purple bubblegum as she took down their order. "And bring us some extra parmesean cheese," Gordo reminded her.  
  
Lizzie sighed. She hadn't felt comfortable showing her face around town much after she had humiliated herself by storming out of the party early, but it was hard for her to refuse two of her favorite things-- her best friend Gordo, and pizza.  
  
Gordo took a gulp of his soda and looked at Lizzie. "So, explain to me again why you've chosen to spend your summer in Colorado," he said. "I'm still missing the bigger picture here. You have a lousy time at one party and suddenly you want to leave the state for two months?"  
  
Lizzie huffed impatiently. "I told you. My aunt wants me to come spend some time with her. Is that so difficult to believe?"  
  
"Well, actually, yes. Why would you blow off your summer plans with your best friends to go off into the mountains with an aunt you barely know?"  
  
Lizzie did not reply. She picked up her glass and slurped her soda. Gordo threw up his hands in defeat. He had invited her out for a farewell pizza, in hopes of understanding what was wrong with her He was sick of trying to dig information out of Lizzie. If she wanted to waste her entire summer, that was her business.  
  
Aunt Laura had called nearly a month ago asking if Lizzie had wanted to spend the summer with her, before school had let out. But that was when Ethan was still her boyfriend, and when she was at the top of the social ladder. The party had been the last straw for her, and she suddenly felt unable to deal with anyone. Whenever she left the house, she was in constant panic of being seen. She wanted time to be alone, and away from all the pressures of the people around her. She got hold of Aunt Laura as soon as she could to tell her she had reconsidered the offer.  
  
The gum-smacking waitress returned with a steaming cheese pizza held above her head. She slammed it on the table and walked off. "What about the parmesean?" Gordo yelled after her, but his request went unnoticed. He shook his head and mutter something about minimum waged-induced angst.  
  
Lizzie yanked a hot slice from the pan and took a bite. "Ouch," she said as she pulled a string of cheese from her lip. "It's kinda hot."  
  
A few tables behind them, they heard a large commotion. Lizzie turned around to see what was going on. There were four or five eigth-graders standing around a table, taunting its sole occupant.  
  
"Jesus, Jill, is that whole pizza for you?" one boy teased.  
  
Lizzie whipped her head back around and hunched over low, hoping no one had seen her. "Oh no," she groaned. "Kids from school."  
  
Gordo stared at her. "Lizzie, are you okay? What's wrong? Why are you freaking out like this?"  
  
Lizzie shook her head fiercefully, not wanting to talk. Gordo sighed and directed his attention to the group of kids instead. He saw that Jill Stokes had been sitting by herself. She was a big girl who wore alot of black, and was pretty much a loner, so the kids found great pleasure in "striking up conversations" with her.  
  
He shook his head in disapproval. "You'd think they would at least give her a break during the summer. This is ridiculous. They pick on less aesthetically-gifted people just to make themselves feel better."  
  
"Go away," Jill growled. She was angry, but hadn't really lost her temper; she was used to it.  
  
One girl picked up a slice of Jill's pizza and looked at it. "You know," she said, "this doesn't really look like enough to satisfy a husky girl such as yourself." She snickered and nodded to the other kids. On signal, they picked up their own trash and scraps and started tossing them onto Jill's food. Their greasy napkins, half-eaten crusts, and watered-down sodas were littered all over Jill's table and what would have been her lunch. After a sufficient amount of laughter, the group wandered out of the building.  
  
"Are they gone?" Lizzie asked worriedly when she noticed the noise had subsided. Gordo nodded. "Good. I was hoping no one would recognize me."  
  
Gordo slammed his hands down on the table. "All right, I've had it. This is driving me nuts. You're usually a regular social butterfly. Now you're afraid to leave your own house. Something doesn't click."  
  
Lizzie let out a whimper. "It's just... I don't feel like talking to anyone." Gordo stared blankly at her, begging that she elaborate. "I don't know why. It's like I'm just waiting for someone to tease me about getting dumped, or acting like a total spaz at the party, or looking like the crap I've been looking like lately. I'm just so used to be Ethan's girlfriend, and now I feel so lost. I feel like everyone's going to reject me, just like Ethan did."  
  
He eyed her incredulously. "Are you serious? Is that what this is all about? That was two weeks ago, Lizzie. Much longer than the average teenager's attention span can last. No one's going to tease you."  
  
"Easy for you to say! You don't know what it's like. Every time I go out anywhere, people are always standing there and staring, as if they're daring me to compete with them. I can't compete anymore, Gordo. Look at me. Look how pathetic I am. I can't live up to the standards that they have. No wonder Ethan dumped me."  
  
Gordo smiled, trying to reassure her. "Don't be silly. It's all in your head! You're just the same as you were before you started going out with Ethan. You'll get over it, trust me."  
  
With the worst possible timing, the front door chimed as Ethan Craft walked through, with his arm around high schooler Bethany Haaser. "Hey pizza dude!" he greeted the guy at the register. Then he waved to the red-headed waitress "Hey, pizza lady!" Bethany giggled as they slid into a booth; both of them on the same side, of course.  
  
Gordo grimaced. It was becoming increasingly hard to reassure her. "I promise, you'll get over it," he repeated firmly.  
  
Lizzie picked up another slice of pizza. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever." She was tired of arguing; it only made her realize how pitiful she really was. She chewed quickly as she tried to fight off the panic she was feeling, and was becoming even more grateful of her visit to Colorado. 


	7. Aunt Laura

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for the reviews. I'm glad to see that quite a few people out there can relate to this issue. I know the first few chapters are a little slow-paced, and that this isn't one of my more exciting stories, but I chose to write this story because it's something that I find to be a real issue among teenagers (especially girls). After this chapter things will really start moving, and I hope you enjoy what's to come. BTW, I've written another Lizzie fic called A Case of You. It's more about Miranda and Gordo and it's rated R. Check it out, I'd appreciate it.  
  
"Make yourself at home," Aunt Laura said cheerily. Lizzie slowly meandered through the house, getting a feel for it. It was decorated with all kinds of art, with shelves upon shelves of books in every room. She peeked inside one room, which contained canvas, buckets of paint, and various art untensils.  
  
"My studio," Aunt Laura told her. "The room across the hall here is where you'll be staying. Lizzie left the studio and walked to her room. It, too, had paintings and books along the walls and a big bed with tye-dyed blankets.  
  
"It looks nice," Lizzie said. She was feeling a little awkward, but the more Aunt Laura spoke the more comfortable Lizzie felt around her. She tossed her bags into the corner of the room and yawned. The flight had worn her out.  
  
Aunt Laura yawned, too. "It's awfully late, isn't it?" Lizzie nodded. "It's too bad you had to take such a late flight. We didn't have much time to get acquainted, did we?" She sighed and walked over to Lizzie to give her a hug. "Well, I'm glad you're here, Lizzie. I hope this visit is fun for you. I'm going to finish cleaning up the studio, and then I'm off to bed. I'll leave you to get things set up here in your room.  
  
"Okay," Lizzie mumbled. Aunt Laura left the room and she began unpacking her bags. She had made a point to pack only her most comfortable clothes. She left all of her high-fashion items at home, along with her enormous hair and cosmetics. She packed only the basics: hair brushes, a bit of eye make-up and lip gloss, and t-shirts and shorts. She wanted to make sure that her trip was a relaxing experience. She wasn't going to worry about how she looked, or spend any time thinking about Ethan or Kate or any of the other kids back home. She was beginning to think that she just might have a little fun, even if she was away from Miranda and Gordo. It didn't seem too bad. Aunt Laura was older than her mom, but she seemed much more youthful.  
  
Once her things were put away, she put on her pajamas and got into bed.  
  
* * * *  
  
Lizzie slept in late the next day. When she woke up, she went straight to the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice. Aunt Laura was already awake and dressed. She was busy at the table mixing together various ingredients.  
  
"Morning, Lizzie," she said with a smile. "There's some bacon on the counter; it's a little cold but you can warm it up in the microwave."  
  
"Thanks, Aunt Laura," Lizzie said, stretching her arms and moving towards the bacon.  
  
"Please, just call me Laura. I think you're old enough to drop the 'aunt'. I'm making some cookies. I hope you like chocolate chip." Lizzie nodded. "I love baking, but there's usually no one around for me to make cookies for. I don't have any kids of my own, so don't be surprised if I spoil you quite a bit this summer."  
  
Lizzie laughed and put a few strips of bacon on a paper plate in the microwave. She was pretty sure that she could deal with being spoiled for a month or two. While she was waiting for the bacon to heat up, she picked a few chocolate chips out of the bag and munched them.  
  
"I'm glad I came to stay with you, Laura," Lizzie said. The weight of all the stress she'd been facing seemed miles and miles away. Laura seemed so genuinely happy to have Lizzie with her, and Lizzie knew that she didn't care how good her hair looked, or how cute her swimsuit was, or whether or not she was girlfriend material.  
  
"I'm glad, too. Why don't you hop in the shower and get dressed? By then the cookies will be finished, and then we can drive into town to do a little shopping in the sqaure. Sound good?"  
  
"Sounds great."  
  
"There's a pretty nice little community around here. It's smaller than the town you've come from, but it's very artsy and cozy. There's plenty of neat little shops downtown. And later in the summer I'm thinking we'll drive over to Denver and hit the malls for some school shopping. It's only about an hour away." Aunt Laura took the bag of chocolate chips from Lizzie and dumped them into the bowl. She sighed. "I think we're going to have a really nice time together."  
  
Lizzie smiled. "So do I." 


	8. Back to the Grind

"Lizzie!" shouted Mrs. McGuire as she ran over to her daughter. She was seeing her for the first time in took her up in her arms and gave her a good squeeze. "I've missed you, so much, sweetie!"  
  
"I missed you to, Mom," Lizzie said as she freed herself of her mother's powerful grip.  
  
"So how was your trip?" she asked as she walked over to get Lizzie's bags.  
  
"It was great. Laura was so nice, and the other day we went to this huge mall in Denver, and she bought me, like, a whole bunch of great new outfits."  
  
"You better be sure to write her a thank you letter as soon as you get home."  
  
"Sure thing, Mom."  
  
* * * *  
  
Half an hour later, Lizzie and her mom reached the McGuire residence. Lizzie smiled when she saw it. Aunt Laura's had been a blast, but it was nice to be home again. She opened the door, with her bag slung over her shoulder, and the first person she saw was her little brother.  
  
"Matt!" she squealed. He turned and stared at her. Lizzie, too, was suddenly shocked by her own enthusiasm. She shook her head and changed her tone. "Uh, hey," she said briskly.  
  
"Right..." said Matt. He looked her over for a minute and started laughing.  
  
"What's so funny?" she said. Just then, Mrs. McGuire walked through the door behind Lizzie, carrying the rest of her bags.  
  
Seeing his mother, Matt held his tongue. He kept laughing and walked upstairs to his room.  
  
Lizzie rolled her eyes and proceeded to the kitchen. Mr. McGuire, Gordo, and Miranda were waiting for her there.  
  
"Surprise!" they yelled, rushing over to her to exchange hugs.  
  
"Hey guys!" Lizzie said. She had missed her friends terribly over the summer and was glad to see them.  
  
"Check it out," said Miranda, pointing to the kitchen counter. Lizzie looked over and saw a round, chocolate-frosted cake that said, "Welcome Back Lizzie" in red letters. She grinned and hugged everyone again. Mr. McGuire brought over a knife and starting cutting a slice for each of them.  
  
* * * *  
  
"I'm so glad you're home, sweetie," said Mrs. Mcguire later that night. She was throwing in a load of laundry from Lizzie's trip.  
  
"Me too," Lizzie replied as she dumped out the contents of her dirty clothes bag. "But it was a good experience to spend some time away from it all."  
  
"Away from it all?" Mrs. McGuire gave her a curious look. "Yes, I suppose your teenage life must be SO stressful."  
  
"Mom," Lizzie scoffed playfully. "Don't joke. It can be rough, you know."  
  
"I know. I'm just teasing."  
  
Lizzie smiled and shook her head at her often out-of-touch mother. When her bag was emptied, she left the laundry room and went into the kitchen. There was one last slice of her welcome back cake still on the counter. She helped herself to it, along with a large glass of milk, and went into the living room to relax.  
  
At the beginning of the summer, everything had seemed to be going horribly wrong. Lizzie felt like she didn't even know who she was anymore. However, the time she spent at Aunt Laura's had given her back a bit of her self- confidence. Laura hadn't been lying when she said she would pamper Lizzie; the entire summer consisted of baked goods, art museums, shopping, and leisurely days and evenings spent lounging around. Whenever they went into town, Lizzie never worried about how she looked or who she saw, because nobody knew her. It was a summer of complete freedom.  
  
School would start in a few days. Lizzie knew getting back to the grind and facing everyone again would be rough, but she was ready. She had had plenty of time to think and to feel comfortable with herself. Junior High was behind her, High School lie before her. She knew she could walk into school on Monday with a confident stride.  
  
Matt entered the living room a few moments after Lizzie, picking up the remote off the couch and changing the channel as he sat down.  
  
"Hey!" said Lizzie. "I was watching that!"  
  
Matt shrugged, oblivious to her distress. Lizzie sighed and took another bite of her cake. She was too tired from the long flight home to argue with him. Matt turned his head and watched as Lizzie ate, snickering to himself.  
  
"Is there something wrong?" Lizzie snapped, giving him the evil big-sister eye.  
  
"Don't you think you should take it easy on the sweets there, Jill?"  
  
Lizzie growled at the Jill Stokes reference. "I beg your pardon?" She spoke each word with acid attitude.  
  
"Oh, please. You mean you haven't noticed the extra poundage you've accumulated this summer?" He poked her belly in a Pilsbury Dough Boy manner and laughed.  
  
Lizzie smacked him hard in the arm. "Shut up, dorkface!"  
  
"Sure," Matt sniggered. "But just because I stop talking doesn't mean you're going to stop being fat!" He started laughing wildly at his own joke.  
  
Lizzie growled and left the living room. At that point she knew for sure she was home. It hadn't taken but a few hours for Matt to be a total jerk as was routine. She went upstairs to her room, shutting the door mildly hard. She paused, looking at herself in the mirror.  
  
"I'm not fat," she said firmly. She turned from side to side, inspecting the different parts of her body. The more she looked, the less sure of her statement she became. Matt couldn't be right. Could he? Lizzie shook her head fiercely and walked away from the mirror.  
  
However, she found herself constantly moving in the direction of the mirror, sizing herself up. 


	9. A Less than Perfect Fit

"This is crazy!" Lizzie whined. She was tugging at a pair of jeans, but couldn't get them past her thighs.  
  
"Lizzie, I don't get what this is all about," said Miranda, watching her friend curiously as she battled a pair of jeans. "Your aunt bought you, like, all those new clothes. Who cares if some of your old clothes don't fit?"  
  
"I care," she replied firmly. After a few more shrieks and tugs, she finally gave up on the pants and threw them to the ground. "Hit me again."  
  
Miranda sighed and pulled another pair of pants out of Lizzie's drawer. She tossed them across the room to Lizzie, who furiosly went to work trying to slip them on.  
  
When it was obvious that none of last year's jeans would fit, Lizzie flopped onto her bed in defeat. "Miranda, you would tell me if I'd put on weight, right?"  
  
Miranda felt uncomfortable under Lizzie's questioning glare. "Sure."  
  
"Well..." Lizzie looked down at herself, then back at Miranda. "Am I fat?"  
  
Miranda shook her head firmly. "No way! You're not fat."  
  
Lizzie was choking back tears. "How come none of my clothes fit, then?"  
  
Miranda walked over to the bed and sat down beside Lizzie. She put her arm around her reassuringly. "Just because you've gotten a little bigger doesn't mean you're fat."  
  
Tears overflowed in Lizzie's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. That obviously wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Yes it does. Matt's right. I'm fat. I can't believe I was so stupid... I didn't even notice all the weight I was putting on." She started crying harder and buried her face into Miranda's shoulder.  
  
"Don't say that, Lizzie," Miranda cooed. She hugged Lizzie and let her cry. "You know you can't believe that little dork. He'll say anything."  
  
Lizzie shook her head persistantly. "I know you're trying to make me feel better, Miranda, but for once my brother's right. I didn't spend a whole lot of time looking in mirrors this summer, but now that I've really looked at myself..." She couldn't even finish the sentence.  
  
Miranda continued to say comforting things throughout the afternoon, but Lizzie was inconsolable. 


	10. High School

Author's Note: Sorry if there's some typos in this chapter; didn't have time to proofread.  
  
Lizzie put on a pair of jeans Aunt Laura had bought her and baggy red sweater, despite the incredibly warm weather. It was the first day of high school, and she didn't want to wear anything that was tight against her skin. She didn't want anyone to be able to see how big she'd gotten over the summer.  
  
"Lizzie, it's eighty degrees outside!" Gordo commented when she sat beside him on the bus.  
  
"Shut up, Gordo," Miranda rang in before Lizzie replied. Miranda knew why Lizzie was dressed the way she was, and she didn't want Lizzie to have to defend herself.  
  
Gordo was hurt. "Geez, just making an observation."  
  
"Well, don't," said Lizzie simply.  
  
He scratched his head. "What's up with you lately? You've been acting really weird since you got back from Colorado. Did they not have any malls there or what?"  
  
Lizzie rolled her eyes and sighed. After pausing for a moment of thought, she asked, "Gordo, have you noticed anything different about me?"  
  
Gordo froze. It was the one question that he never knew the answer to. He hated it when girls insisted on asking it. He racked his brain for possible solutions: new hair? New clothes? New scented shampoo? New shade of lip gloss?! He knew that it had to be something utterly unnoticable yet vital to a girl's view of importance. "Wait! It's new eye stuff, right? You're wearing different eye make-up?"  
  
Lizzie shook her head furiously. "No, I mean something different with my body, Gordo!"  
  
"Ew!" He shuddered. "Lizzie, you're not supposed to ask me those things! I'm your friend!"  
  
"Oh, never mind," she said, slumping into her seat. It was useless trying to talk to Gordo about that sort of thing. Unfortunately, no one else would be as oblivious as Gordo.  
  
* * * *  
  
*Don't make eye contact with anyone* Lizzie told herself as she slumped through the halls. *They're all looking at me. What do I do?! They're all looking at me!* The paranoia of being stared at had occured to her many times before, but it had never felt so hard to make herself invisible. *Where could I hide?* she thought bitterly to herself. *There's no place I could fit.*  
  
The day was not an easy one. High school halls were more crowded, teachers were less sensitive, and appearance was obviously crucial. She didn't feel like the same Lizzie anymore. She had never been the most confident person in the world, but at least she knew who she was and felt good about herself. She felt like a big sqaure in a room full of tiny, perfect circles.  
  
"Well, well," said an icily familiar voice later that day.  
  
Lizzie looked away from her locker to see Kate standing beside her. "What do you want, Kate?" she asked in a quiet, defeated voice.  
  
"I'd heard the rumors," Kate said, "and I was coming to see if they were true. I guess Claire was right."  
  
"Right about what?"  
  
Kate laughed and rolled her eyes. "Just look in the mirror, Chubby McGuire. You have really let yourself go. So, what does Ethan think of your new look? I think I'll ask him."  
  
Lizzie's eyes grew wide with fear, but she was frozen where she stood. She couldn't move or speak.  
  
Kate laughed in Lizzie's face for a moment longer and then left with a flip of her hair.  
  
* * * *  
  
Lizzie choked back tears for the rest of the day. She she got off the bus, she darted into the house and slammed the door behind her. She moped into the kitchen and took a brownie out of the cupboard. She took a few bites, and then froze. She ran to the trash can and spit out the chewed up bits of brownie.  
  
"What am I doing?" she scolded herself, tossing the rest of the brownie into the trash. "This is how I got this way in the first place!" She turned and stormed up to her room, tears pouring from her eyes. 


	11. Eating Habits

"I'm going on a diet," Lizzie told herself firmly. She stood before the mirror, lifting her shirt enough so that she could observe her midriff. She hated it. She hated how she had been sucked into a false sense of security at Aunt Laura's, and let herself get the way she was. She made up her mind to give up the afternoon snacks that often occupied her on her lonely days at home.  
  
That plan would prove to be far more difficult than she intended. About nine o'clock that evening, she was wandering through the house and feeling bored. She suddenly found herself in the kitchen, where a fresh-baked strawberry cake was sitting on the counter. "No," she scolded herself. "Just leave the kitchen. Turn around, and don't look back."  
  
"Lizzie?" Mrs. Mcguire asked curiously as she walked into the kitchen. Matt followed close behind. "Who were you talking to, sweetie?"  
  
"No one. I didn't say anything."  
  
"Sure you didn't," Matt said disbelievingly. He looked to his mother. "I told you. She's schizophrenic. Maybe we should amputate her brain..."  
  
"Buzz off, Matt," Lizzie barked.  
  
"Be nice to your sister," Mrs. Mcguire interfered, cutting off any witty retort Matt undoubtedly had prepared. She proceeded to the cupboard and pulled out some plates. "Want a slice of cake Lizzie? I just made it this afternoon."  
  
It was a tempting offer. Lizzie's mouth watered at the thought. It was just one slice of cake, it couldn't hurt. She was feeling so lousy, and a moist slice of cake was just the thing to cheer her up... "No!" Lizzie refused rather loudly. She turned and look disapprovingly at her mother. "You know, my life would be much easier if you didn't insist on baking all the time!" She grunted and stormed back up to her room.  
  
Matt ran his finger delicately along the edge of the cake and licked off the frosting. "See what I mean? The girl's a loon."  
  
* * * *  
  
The next few days of school went on about the same way the first day had. Lizzie wore baggy clothes, and avoided talking to people whenever she could; especially Ethan. She felt as though whispers and stares were suffocating her every time she walked through the halls. She wouldn't go out after school. Some days, she didn't even feel like seeing Miranda or Gordo.  
  
*Here we go again* Lizzie thought to herself as she exited the cafeteria. Lunch seemed to be the most difficult time of the day; it was the one time when there was no escaping social contact. She held her tray and glanced over the sea of high school students. Her eyes moved from one beautiful person to the next. It all seemed like on big competition, and she felt like the biggest loser of them all.  
  
Lizzie spotted Miranda and Gordo, sitting at a table of Sophmores. Gordo knew many of them from his advanced classes, and had somehow scored a seat at their lunch table. Miranda spotted Lizzie with her tray and motioned for her to come join them. It was an exciting opportunity to sit a table full of older kids, and just the sort of thing Lizzie would enjoy. But for some reason, she found herself shaking her head at Miranda.  
  
She couldn't bring herself to go sit with all those Sophmores. All those beautiful, thin Sophmores. Part of her thought they may not even *let* her sit with them. They would take one look at her and tell her to get lost. She looked elsewhere for a seat, and saw Jill Stokes sitting all by her lonesome, watching the world go by.  
  
Lizzie carried her tray to Jill's table and sat down. She knew that at least at this table she wouldn't be judged. Jill looked up from her lunch and stared at Lizzie as if she had lost her mind. This made Lizzie nervous.  
  
"You, uh, don't mind if I sit here, do you?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah, acutally," Jill said. "I rather enjoy having conversations with the cafeteria food." Lizzie stared blankly at her. "It's a joke, McGuire. You know, sarcasm? Of course you can sit here."  
  
Lizzie faked a smile and nodded as she dug into her lunch. She ate all of her food in tiny, nervous bites. She tried to concentrate only on her food, and not on the judging glances of her peers. Each minute felt like an hour, and the second the bell rang, she darted away to her locker. 


	12. What's the Story, McGuire?

"So what's your story, McGuire?" asked a very curious and exasperated Jill the following day. She eyed the blonde creature suspiciously.  
  
Lizzie, who had come to sit with Jill yet again, sat a little confused. "Um... excuse me?"  
  
"Let's not make this any more painful than it is, blondie. People like you don't just suddenly decide to migrate over to the loner's table. Is there a shortage of seats at the beautiful people's table or something?"  
  
Lizzie looked down at her lunch. *Actually, yeah,* she thought sadly to herself. "I may as well be a loner myself," she mumbled.  
  
"Well, that'll be a bit difficult. You see, loner's have this whole thing about being ALONE, and you're here with me. So spill."  
  
Lizzie shrugged. She spoke in a small, barely audible voice. "I'm just not one of the 'beautiful people' anymore."  
  
Jill nodded. "Well, you have really let yourself go, McGuire." Lizzie dropped her jaw in shock at her lunch companion's briskness. Jill gave her a warning glance. "Hey, now, don't get offended. You're on my territory so you'll have to get used to the way we run this particular lunch table. As I was saying, you've totally lost your pizazz. I haven't seen you wear frilly, midriff-revealing shirts or shiny pink hair ribbons in quite awhile. I'm very curious... what's the scoop here?"  
  
Lizzie wasn't quite sure how to respond to any of that; she hadn't spent much time around anyone quite as blunt as Jill. It was a little annoying, but at the same she found small comfort in the fact that someone was talking straight with her. "I'm a freak. I'm a fat, ugly freak. Everyone's always staring at me. I just can't compete with them anymore!"  
  
Jill laughed. "So, let me get this straight. You put on a few pounds this summer, and suddenly feel like you're not good enough to hang out with the in crowd. And so to avoid being stared at, you come and sit with ME? That's some piss-poor logic, McGuire."  
  
For a fleeting moment, Lizzie considered saying something to defend herself. Instead she simply sighed and shook her head. "It's not about avoiding people anymore. No matter what I do, people are going to stare and make fun of me. I may as well admit my freakhood and come sit with you."  
  
"Gee, McGuire, that's a sweet sentiment. I'm moved, I really am. Get up."  
  
Lizzie stared back at her, confused.  
  
"You're not fat, and you're certainly far from freakhood. You're making the rest of us loners look bad. Get lost."  
  
"Are you... are you serious?"  
  
"Of course I am. I can't have you cramping my style; go back to the beautiful people."  
  
Lizzie picked up her tray, a little baffled, and slowly walked away. The bell rang, sparing her the trouble and humiliation of trying to find another available seat. *That's just great* she thought bitterly to herself. *Now I can't even sit at the freak table*  
  
* * * *  
  
"Lizzie, are you okay?" asked Miranda on the bus. "How come you haven't been hanging out with us?"  
  
Lizzie shifted uncomfortably. "I've just been busy," she said. "High school's a bit more hectic than I expected."  
  
"Sure you don't mean homework?" said Gordo. "Because I've never known Lizzie Mcguire to blow off her friends just because of homework. That excuse won't work."  
  
His manner was jovial and playful; Lizzie laughed uncomfortable but couldn't find any words.  
  
"Come to the Digital Bean with us," Miranda offered.  
  
Lizzie shook her head no. Miranda and Gordo looked at each other.  
  
"What's the matter, Lizzie?"  
  
Lizzie was unsure of what to say. She looked back and forth between her two friends. Why was she so intent on avoiding them? They cared about her, she knew that was true. But going out in public with them was asking too much. She wanted to have fun again, but the thought of facing all those people made her panicky. She just wasn't the same old Lizzie. She didn't know how to explain this to her friends, as they stared at her expectantly.  
  
Thankfully, the bus pulled onto her street. "I have to go," she said. She grabbed her bookbag and hastily exit the bus. 


	13. Mom Talk

Lizzie slammed the door behind her, and let warm tears stream down her face. She felt trapped between worlds and personalities. Things could never be the way they were before. She didn't know what to do with herself. Where had she gone so terribly wrong? How had she let her own self slip away from her?  
  
She went into the kitchen and pulled a box of snack cakes out of the cabinet. She pulled one out and tore the wrapper open with her teeth. She nibbled on it in between sobs as she carried the box upstairs.  
  
An hour later, she was lying in her bed with the empty box beside her. Her face was stained with dry tears as she suffered the realization of her lost state over and over again. By blowing off her friends and sitting with Jill Stokes, Lizzie had tried to forget the way things had once been. But that was more difficult to let go than she had thought. She wanted her life back, but was that possible? She had already blown her diet within one day. She couldn't even confide in her two best friends without panicking. Was she ever going to be the same old Lizzie?  
  
There was a knock at the door. Lizzie sniffled and quickly wiped the tears from her face. "Who is it?" she asked, trying not to let the misery of her current state be apparent in her voice.  
  
"It's me, Mom," said Mrs. McGuire. "Can I come in?"  
  
Lizzie paused and thought. She didn't know if she was ready to talk to anyone; however, she would have to share her feelings eventually. It might as well be with her mother. "Yeah, Mom."  
  
Mrs. McGuire slowly opened the door and peeked in. She could tell that Lizzie had been crying. She had been acting strangely ever since school had started, and Mrs. McGuire had been waiting it out to see what was bothering her. She sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her fingers through Lizzie's blonde locks. "Is everything okay, sweetie?"  
  
Everything was the exact opposite of okay. Lizzie didn't know where to start. Tears flood her eyes once again, and she found herself curled up and sobbing in her mother's arms. "I'm fat, Mom!" She found that it was the only thing she could really say. "I've gotten so fat, and everyone's been making fun of me."  
  
"Sweetie, you're not fat!" Mrs. McGuire assured her. "You're beautiful, just the way you are."  
  
Lizzie shook her head insistantly. "Don't say things like that, Mom. I know that you have to, but please don't."  
  
Mrs. McGuire was shaken by the miserable state her daughter seemed to be in. She hugged her tightly, and then looked straight into her eyes. "Do you want to know what I think, Lizzie?" Her daughter sniffled and nodded. "I think you need to stop spending all of your time locked up in your room. You're not fat, honey, and that's the truth.You've been spending all of your time alone, feeling sad and passing the time with snack foods. I wish I knew what made you so upset, but I don't want to see you shut yourself up away from the world. It's not healthy." She wiped a tear from Lizzie's face and hugged her. "You're beautiful, Lizzie. Don't let anyone else make you feel bad about yourself."  
  
Lizzie nodded, trying to find truth in what her mother was telling her. It was true; the reason she had put on so much weight was because she did nothing but sit around and eat. She would feel so lonely all the time, and when she got lonely, she ate. It was unhealthy. Having her mother point these things out was good, but at the same time Lizzie didn't understand how any of it would help her. She couldn't stop eating. Whenever the world around her was too chaotic, she found comfort in food. How could she give up one of the only things that comforted her? 


	14. Desperate Measures

Author's Warning: There may be some physically disturbing elements in this chapter.  
  
After a bit more hugging and crying, Mrs. McGuire left Lizzie to be alone. Her mother had given her a large chunk of encouragement. She was absolutely fed up with moping around, and she felt determined to get things back to normal. The question was, though, how was she going to do that? Her "diet" approach had failed miserably. She glanced over at the empty box of snack cakes and frowned. Had she really eaten the ENTIRE box? The very thought made her sick to her stomach.  
  
Bad! She scolded herself, much like an owner would do to a mischevious dog. Food is bad, Lizzie!  
  
She repeated this over and over again in her head, until she finally became so angry at herself that she couldn't stand to even look at the box. She picked it up and furiously ripped it to shreds. Tears erupted again. Just as quickly as her confidence had been revived, it shriveled into nothing. She threw her face into her pillow and sobbed. Fear and self-hate consumed her.  
  
"What's wrong with me?" she asked aloud. "This is ridiculous." She wiped her tear-streaked face. She sat up straight, and took a few deep breaths. She attempted to calm herself down. "Get a hold of yourself, Lizzie. You can do this. There has to be a way."  
  
She closed her eyes and tried to think back on the way things were before the end of last year. Things had been much different then. Ethan Craft was her boyfriend. She was a shining gem on the social ladder. She was accepted by those around her. She was confident. She was happy. What was so different then?  
  
"I was thinner," she muttered to herself. That seemed to be all she could think of. Try as she might to focus on something else, her mind kept circling back to the fact that she was fat. It should be such a minor thing, but it wasn't. She hated it. And she wanted to change it.  
  
*If I could just take it all back,* she thought to herself. *If I could just undo everything I did. If could just take the fatness out of me!*  
  
An idea ran through her mind. Her hands began to sweat as she conceived a plan. It wouldn't be so bad, she thought. Yes, maybe it would work...  
  
She had reached her limit. She was taking control. She got up and walked slowly, but determinedly, to the bathroom. She took a look at herself in the mirror. She despised the chubby, tear-stained face staring back at her. *I'm not putting up with it anymore.*  
  
She dropped to her knees, shaking nervously. *I'm going to change.* She took her finger, and moved it slowly to the back of her throat. It gave her a terrible, frightening sensation, but it seemed worth it. She viewed the vomit she was spewing as the evil fatness exiting her body.  
  
*I'm going to change.* 


	15. Hanging Out

"Miranda! Gordo!" Lizzie called cheerfully. She ran over to greet her friends. "What's up, guys?"  
  
Miranda and Gordo looked at each other, then back at Lizzie. "You sure seem to be in a better mood," Miranda curiously observed. "What's up with the sudden change of heart?"  
  
Lizzie shrugged. "Oh... nothing. Let's just say I've done some soul- searching."  
  
"Soul searching?"  
  
Lizzie nodded. The events of the night before beamed in the back of her mind. Her actions were desperate, and still scared her a bit. But she could ignore all that to accept the empowerment it gave her. She was not as powerless as she thought she was. When there wasn't a way to solve her problem, she made a way. That was the Lizzie she once was; she would do whatever it took to get all that back.  
  
Miranda and Gordo were watching Lizzie expectantly, waiting to hear more about this "soul searching." For a fleeting moment, Lizzie wanted to tell them everything. She wanted to spill every detail of losing and finding herself over and over again, and how she finally pulled herself back to reality. Ration stepped in, however, and she kept her mouth shut. She knew they wouldn't understand. How could anyone understand how easy it is to forget who you are?  
  
She grinned and shrugged innocently. "So what have you guys been up to lately?" she asked, conveniently changing the subject to something she was genuinely interested in. She was out of the loop, and she needed to work towards getting back in it. She listened as Miranda proceeded to tell her about the Sophmore friends she had made, and how they were considering letting her be in their band. Her attention was deterred, however, when she heard a familiar laugh nearby.  
  
She turned and spotted Ethan, walking with a group of friends that were moving towards her. She felt sweat accumulate on the back of her neck. She tensed up. She wasn't ready for him. She wasn't ready to face him yet. Ethan was the first one to recognize she wasn't good enough for him, and it caused a pain in her stomach. She needed more time to be herself again, to be better than herself, before she could face Ethan.  
  
"Lizzie!" said Ethan as if he hadn't seen Lizzie in years. He stood there grinning like a goofus for a moment, when it occured to him why they hadn't spoken in awhile. Without noticing it, he slapped his forehead when he remembered that she hadn't been very happy about their break-up. "Uh.... what's up?"  
  
Lizzie froze. She stupidly nodded her head and tried not to let her fake smile fade.  
  
"Just hanging out," Miranda answered for her, noticing Lizzie's strange behavior.  
  
"Hanging out is good." Ethan stood there, uncomfortable and (unsurprisingly) at a loss of words. "Yeah, I've always liked hanging out." Another pause. "Nice, uh, pants, Lizzie." Pause. "Baggy is really in right now... So is hanging out." Unbearable pause. "So.... I'm gonna go now."  
  
Lizzie nodded nervously, her insecure smile still plastered to her face as he edged away.  
  
"Lizzie?" said Miranda. "What was that about? Are you okay?"  
  
But Lizzie wasn't listening. Miranda's concerns were drowned out by the questions pounding in her brain. *Baggy is in? Was that a fat joke? Did his friends dare him to come over here? Was that a fat joke?* Irrational thoughts buzzed through her brain, even as her friends spoke to her and walked her to class.  
  
* * * *  
  
Her enthusiasm and adrenaline were worn down by the time she got home that afternoon. She felt herself slipping into the desire to settle in front of the tube with some munchies to cheer herself up. But she stopped herself. That wasn't the way she was going to do things anymore. She ran to the bathroom again, and made herself throw up. That was the feeling she wanted. She needed that power to keep her emotions up.  
  
She went to her bedroom and stood in front of her mirror, examining the contours of her body. She pinched pieces of flesh and stretched them out, thinking with an almost crazed ambition, *I can make that go away* She went to the bathroom and gagged herself again, though she had emptied much of her stomach the first time. She thought of something else.  
  
She went into the garage, where the air was muggy and full of dust. She shoved aside boxes and lawn gnome paints to reveal the Treadmill her mother had bought a few years ago; it, like much of the rest of the garage's contents, was covered in a thick layer of dust. She brushed it off a bit and messed around with the settings until she felt like she could work it properly.  
  
She stepped onto the Treadmill, a little uncertain at first, and started it up. She felt comfortable, and liked the feeling of putting her leg muscles to work. She increased the speed. It was extremely hot in the un- airconditioned garage, and sweat collected in Lizzie's hair and started soaking through her t-shirt. She didn't mind the heat; it made her feel like she was working even harder. Sweating, like throwing up, gave Lizzie the sensation she was losing excess baggage. The feeling gave her a rush of adrenaline, and she thrived on it. She refused to get off the machine for several hours, even when her legs started to hurt and the dusty air was beginning to make her feel dizzy.  
  
After about two hours of pounding her feet on the exercise machine, her surroundings grew faint. She felt dreamy, like she was losing the ability to think straight. This didn't bother her, though; whenever her mind was alert, all she could seem to focus on was her flawes. She increased the speed again, and drove her mind deeper into the exercise. She wanted to focus on nothing else but working herself; she wanted to keep that rush alive in her.  
  
The room began to spin, and her legs felt like jelly. Her sweaty palms gripped the handlebars, but her mind had no perception of up or down or any movement at all. She tripped over her self and fell hard. She crashed into several boxes and hit her head against the edge of the continually moving machine.  
  
For a moment, she thought, she was going to blackout. She laid their for a moment, with the dust of the shifted boxes drifting down to her. She slowly eased herself up, though the world was still spinning a bit, and turned off the Treadmill. It took her a moment to regain her thought. "It's okay," she said softly to herself. "I just need to take a break. I can't do it all at once."  
  
She laid back down on the floor and started doing crunches. She felt that same rush as she tightly contracted the muscles of her stomach, which had come to be one of her least favorite body parts. Her mind still couldn't lock in to logical trains of thought. Instead she just focused on her new- found way to make the pain go away. 


	16. Whatever It Takes

Pain. Burning pain tinged through Lizzie's muscles when she woke up the next morning. Her legs and back and stomach ached, and the back of her head was sore from where she'd fallen. She attempted to sit up. "Oww..." she moaned as she discovered movement was painful.  
  
Eventually, she shoved herself out of bed, though her legs seemed barely able to hold her up. "Maybe I overdid it a little bit..." she mumbled to herself. She found herself staggering over to the mirror, where she stared at her reflection. She looked into her own eyes, trying to understand what it was that made her feel so lousy inside. She wondered, too, why she looked so lousy on the outside.  
  
Her knees were weak. Her stomach was growling. She'd slept in fairly late, but she still felt like going back to bed. She wanted to bury herself in her blankets, snuggle with her stuffed elephant, and sleep everything away. When she slept, she wouldn't have to think about school and food and her friends and her body. When she slept, she wouldn't be hungry, and she wouldn't feel her aching muscles. Wouldn't it be nice, she thought, to just give up on everything and sleep for as long as she could.  
  
Part of her, however, was not quite defeated. The depression she had been inside for the past few weeks was beginning to tire her. Buried beneath all the emotional baggage she let herself wallow in, there was a maddening desire in her to go to the extremes. This was the part of her that was sick of the crap, sick of the insecurities and the hurting. She felt willing to do whatever it took to make it all go away. The rush of high she got from pushing herself was the kind of feeling that this part of her thrived on. Her muscles were still throbbing, but somehow she felt pleasure in the pain. There was some sort of empowerment she felt when she drove herself to extremes. It tore her mind away from depression and fed the part of her that was hungry to feel something new.  
  
She went downstairs and made herself some eggs and toast; she hoped it would give her energy. Then she went to bathroom and vomited it all back up. She grabbed a bottle of water and headed out to the garage again. She started up the Treadmill, working her already sore legs. It was unbearably hot, and she started feeling that dizzy, exhausting sensation. She ignored all pain and discomfort and pushed herself. After an unreasonable amount of time on the Treadmill, she started doing crunches again. She tried push- ups, too. She tried every exercise she could remember from Girl's P.E., anything she could think of to keep her body moving. *Whatever it takes,* she thought to herself. *I'll do whatever it takes to stop feeling this way.*  
  
* * * *  
  
She kept up this rountine for the next few weeks. She flourished on the thrill of stretching her body to its absolute limits. She started depriving herself of sleep, even, to make more time for working her body. Whenever she started to slip into those dark feelings again, she would just call upon the rush of stressing her body.  
  
She kept herself feeling "up" enough that she could start hanging out with Miranda and Gordo again. They welcomed her presence, which they had started to miss when she had begun avoiding them. It did not take them long to notice that something was very wrong with Lizzie. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she was rapidly losing weight. Even though she was all smiles and chipper attitude, she seemed jittery and constantly on edge. She made everyday things seem like nerve-racking trials. They tried often to get her to talk about it, but Lizzie would act as though they hadn't said anything at all.  
  
One day, the three of them treated themselves to an assortment of smoothies at the Digital Bean. They were laughing and having fun, but Miranda and Gordo still noticed that Lizzie seemed slightly deflated. Her eyes wandered, as if she was drifting into another place. A sad, faraway place.  
  
"I'll be right back guys," said Lizzie after finishing her second smoothie. "I've gotta go to the bathroom." She quickly moved from the table, a dazed look in her eyes.  
  
Miranda and Gordo looked at each other. "Something's not right..." Gordo said softly. Miranda nodded and got up to follow Lizzie.  
  
When she pushed open the door to the bathroom, the first thing she heard was a pained gagging noise, like someone was throwing up. Miranda could see Lizzie's bottom half on the floor in one of the stalls. She grew terrified and tried to open the stall. It was locked. She pounded on the door. "Lizzie, are you okay?" she cried.  
  
The gagging stopped. It was silent for a moment. "Miranda..." Lizzie began. She was too tired to lie. "Don't worry, Miranda. I'm fine. Just leave me alone."  
  
Miranda felt like she was going to cry. Something WAS wrong with Lizzie, and she began to realize it was much more serious than she and Gordo had thought. She felt bad, thinking she must have let her friend down if she had been unable to see that something was geniunely troubling her. She got down on her stomach and crawled under the door.  
  
Lizzie tensed up. "Miranda, I said leave me alone."  
  
"I've already left you alone too long," Miranda said. "What are you doing? What are you doing to yourself?"  
  
Lizzie looked away. "It's just something I have to do."  
  
Tears filled Miranda's eyes and she slowly wrapped her arms around Lizzie. "No. No. You never have to hurt yourself. There's no reason."  
  
"You don't get it..." Lizzie tried to explain. Words failed her. Her mind was swimming in a dizzy sea, as if she were inside the muggy garage. She tried again to speak, but exhaustion swept over her. She felt the world turn faint and indistinguishable. Miranda tried to talk to her as she drifted, but Lizzie heard none of it as she passed out on the bathroom floor. 


	17. Dreams

Lizzie slept for a very long time. Her body had been forced to its boundaries, and it simply shut down. Dreams of all different sorts floated in and out of her mind. She dreamed of skinny girls in sparkly pink bathing suits; she dreamed of fat girls that wore lots of black. She dreamed of Miranda and Gordo, and how they were accepted into the high school world with amazing ease. She dreamed of herself as an enormous whale at an aquatic theme park, where people came to watch her like someone in a freak show. Kate was sitting in the audience, with a sign that said "Chubby McGuire". Ethan held a sign that screamed in bright letters, "NOT GIRLFRIEND MATERIAL". Jill Stokes stood by the side of the tank, throwing fish into Lizzie's mouth and saying things like, "Try harder, Lizzie. You're even making the freaks look bad."  
  
Her last dream was the strangest, and most vivid. She was inside Aunt Laura's studio, sitting before a blank canvas. She felt Laura beside her, saying softly, "Paint a picture, Lizzie. Paint what's inside your head."  
  
Lizzie looked down at the row of paints on the easel. There were so many colors. Soft pink, the color that made her think of delicate flowers. A petite color. It was not a color she saw in her head. There was also yellow, a fiercefully happy color. And deep blue, a color that pulled you into a state of calmness and stability. Lizzie didn't think that these colors could be used to illustrate what was happening in her mind.  
  
She searched the colors for one that suited her. But none of them seemed quite right. She tried to look inside her head, and see what colors were lurking about in there. But the colors moved too fast, and she was unsure of what was really going on in there.  
  
She touched her hand to the canvas. It felt like human skin. Not just anyone's skin; she immediately recognized it as her own. *How can I recognize my own skin, but not my own mind?* she thought to herself. She realized that at some point, she must have lost sight of who she really was.  
  
"Why haven't you painted anything?" Laura asked.  
  
"There's nothing to paint," said Lizzie. "My mind is just a blank canvas."  
  
"If there is nothing inside of you, then paint whatever you see on the outside."  
  
Lizzie felt nauseated at the thought of this request. The outside was even more difficult to face than the inside. She knew that no color or texture of paint could begin to capture what she saw on the outside. Even if they could, she didn't think she would have the strength to go through the trial of making herself re-create the ugliness she saw.  
  
The paint in the bottles began to rise and overflow. All the colors dripped and oozed from the easel to the ground. They bled together and formed twisting, unrecognizable images. Lizzie knew what that felt like. She didn't need to paint anything at all; the mixed-up, structureless puddle of color portrayed exactly what was going on in her mind.  
  
* * * *  
  
The dream world faded, and Lizzie woke up in her bedroom. She felt a little dizzy at first, and couldn't remember how she'd gotten home. "What happened?" she mumbled aloud.  
  
Mr. McGuire heard Lizzie speak and came into her room. "Feeling okay, honey?" he asked.  
  
Lizzie nodded slowly, with confusion on her face. "What happened?" she asked again.  
  
"Miranda called us and said you'd passed out at the Digital Bean," he said quietly. "The doctor said it was because of fatigue and dehydration."  
  
She remembered. Miranda had seen her. Miranda had found out. She looked over at her dad, who watched her with concern. Did he know? Had Miranda told her parents? Had the doctor been able to figure it out? She felt panicky. She worried that if her parents knew what she had been doing, they would make her stop. And she didn't want to stop. The things she did kept her from drifting into that miserable, uncertain state of mind. When she was busy straining her body, she didn't have to worry about her mind.  
  
Mr. McGuire continued, but his words were slow and uncertain. He seemed unsure of how to talk to his daughter about the subject at hand. "He said it was probably caused by continual vomiting." He paused. "He said you'd probably been... been making yourself throw up." He looked into his daughter's eyes, desperate. "You haven't been doing that, have you, Lizzie?"  
  
Lizzie sunk deeper beneath her covers, wishing she could disappear. "No," she said through a scratchy voice. She swallowed. "Not exactly..."  
  
Mr. McGuire looked away. "Do you... want to talk about it?" It was the only thing he could think of to say. He wanted to comfort her, but he needed her to tell him what was really wrong first.  
  
Lizzie pulled her covers all the way up, right under her chin. "I don't... I don't feel so well. I'm still a little tired. Could we talk later?"  
  
Mr. McGuire seemed unsure, but he nodded lightly. "Sure, sweetie." He stood up and turned out the lights. He left the room, but didn't shut the door behind him.  
  
Lizzie flopped over on her side and let out a sigh. She looked over at the clock on her nightstand. It was 10:30; she had been asleep for nearly five hours. She didn't feel like going back to sleep, but she closed her eyes and didn't make a sound. If she could just stay in bed until the next morning, she could go to school and escape her parents for a few more hours.  
  
She knew she would have to face them sooner or later. And when that time came... what could she possibly say to them? 


	18. Mom and Dad

Lizzie woke up the next morning from a dreamless sleep. For a moment her thoughts were cleared of the previous day's events. She felt refreshed in a way she hadn't felt for many days. But then, slowly, the frightening memories came to her. Her secret had been revealed. Even though she understood how important it was for her to do the things she did, she also knew she probably wouldn't be able to make anyone else understand. No one else knew what it was like for her. No one else experienced the kind of pain she felt. Did they know what it was like to forget who you are? No. They didn't. And they would never understand.  
  
As she got out of bed, she felt a surge of strength she hadn't felt in several weeks. It was a physical sensation of completion. She felt... full. She suddenly had a sneaking suspicion that her parents, or maybe the doctors, may have fed her while she was out of it. Maybe she had regained conciousness for awhile, though she couldn't remember it, and they had made her eat then. Or maybe they had used a feeding tube. There were several hours of yesterday afternoon that she had no memory of at all. They could have slipped anything into her, as unlikely as that seemed. What if they had forced her to break her diet? She was unsure of what had actually happened, but her mind buzzed with terrifying scenarios. She couldn't take any chances. There was possibly food in her that shouldn't be there, and she wanted to get it out. She scurried to the bathroom.  
  
She got ready for school, making sure to stay away from downstairs and her parent's bedroom. She was still intent on avoiding them until after school, when a confrontation was inevitable. Just before her bus was due to show up, she quietly moved downstairs. Just as she reached the last stair, however, Mr. McGuire appeared beside her.  
  
"Good morning, Lizzie," he said.  
  
"Morning, Dad," she replied uncomfortably. *Why?* she thought to herself. *Why didn't I just make a run for the door?*  
  
"You don't have to go to school today, you know. You should get your rest." He had trouble making eye contact with her.  
  
*Oh, yeah,* she thought miserably to herself. *I would just love to stay home and spend the entire day with you and Mom, discussing the many ways I've gone out of my mind.* "That's okay, Dad. I don't want to get behind on my work or anything."  
  
Mr. McGuire nodded, even though he saw straight through her lie. "I see."  
  
"Yeah, so.... I'd better go. The bus will be here soon." She edged her way to the door. She turned, and took one last look at her father, whose face seemed much sadder than usual. The fact that he hadn't looked her in the eye since last night was unnerving. She quickly slipped out the door. The bus was already coming down her street as she walked across the lawn. She was nearly to the sidewalk when she heard the door swing open behind her.  
  
"Lizzie, wait!" called Mr. McGuire. Lizzie turned around slowly, and her eyes met his. "I just wanted to tell you that..." He struggled to find the right way to put it. "Well, you should know that your mom wouldn't stop crying last night. She couldn't say anything, she just kept crying. She's scared for you, Lizzie. We're both a little scared."  
  
Lizzie stared at her father. The bus had come to a halt beside Lizzie's house, but she couldn't move. Her mother had cried? That knowledge gave her a churning feeling in her stomach. And she knew that feeling wasn't because of something she ate, because there was no food in her stomach. She wanted to be selfish and escape her father's gaze by getting on the bus, but she couldn't get rid of the image of her mother sobbing.  
  
She turned around and looked at the bus driver. She waved him on, and as the bus rode down the street, she walked back inside with her dad.  
  
Mr. McGuire called in to say he wouldn't be able to make it to work, and a while later Mrs. McGuire woke up. She walked into the kitchen, looking weary and disheveled as thought she hadn't had much sleep. Pain rushed over her eyes as she first took notice of Lizzie. She quickly left the room and took a very long shower. There was very little conversation between Lizzie and Mr. McGuire during her absence. When she returned, the three of them had a painfully quiet breakfast. The silence in the air carried something dark that none of them wanted to face just yet.  
  
"We need to talk," said Mrs. McGuire at last, as she picked up the plates and carried them to the sink. Lizzie and Mr. McGuire nodded solemnly.  
  
They went into the living room, where all the "we need to talk" conversations of the past had taken place. Lizzie sat in one of the chairs, and her parents sat parallel to her on the couch. She knew that this was the way you were supposed to sit whenever you "needed to talk", but she still didn't like the arrangement. She sunk into the plush cusions of the chair, all alone, while her parents sat close together, holding hands, seemingly united against her. It made her terribly uncomfortable.  
  
They were met with silence. It took a moment for someone to be bold enough to have the first word. "Lizzie," began Mr. McGuire, "you know that we love you, right?"  
  
It was the most cliche way to start this type of conversation. It was customary for the parents to remind her that they loved her, because in all the harshness of the words that were about to be spoken, it was easy to forget that sort of basic knowledge. Lizzie nodded, averting her parents' gaze.  
  
Mrs. McGuire cleared her throat. "Listen, before we say anything, I want to get the facts straight," she said. She gave a pained glance in Lizzie's direction. "Have you... Have you been making yourself throw up?"  
  
Lizzie looked up at her mother, briefly meeting her eyes, and then looked backd down at the floor. She nodded slowly.  
  
Mrs. McGuire closed her eyes to the crushing blow, as if somewhere deep down she had still held on to the hope that everything was a big misunderstanding. "And the... the over-exertion and the sleep deprivation?" she asked hoarsely, repeated the things the doctor had told them the day before. She felt a pain in her heart as Lizzie responded to all of those things. The doctor had been correct about all of the physical causes. But what about the mental causes? What had made her daughter do those awful things to herself?  
  
"Oh, sweetie..." Tears started pouring down Mrs. McGuire's face. It was a sight Lizzie hated to see. "Why, honey? Why would you do those things?"  
  
Lizzie took in a deep breath. Normally, in these kinds of conversations, her parents would do all the talking while she struggled to get a word in. This was completely different from those times. Now, her parents spoke very little. Instead, they just waited to hear what Lizzie had to say. But Lizzie didn't have anything to say this time. Words failed her. How could she possibly explain it? It was such a very long story. It began so many months ago, and it involved so many complex feelings that even she herself couldn't describe. The thought of spilling the whole story was exhausting.  
  
"I can't explain it," Lizzie said softly. "It's just something I have to do."  
  
Mrs. McGuire sobbed a little. "Oh, sweetie, no. You don't have to do these things. If something's bothering you, you can always come to us. You should never have to hurt yourself."  
  
Miranda had told Lizzie the same thing yesterday. But Lizzie knew they just didn't get it. She wasn't really hurting herself, was she? In her mind, the pain she felt when she wasn't throwing up or working out was much worse than any physical side effects that might occur. She looked up and saw that her mother was still crying. It pained her, but at the same time it frustrated her. Why was her mother crying, when she was the one who was hurting? "I knew you wouldn't understand. I just knew that you guys wouldn't get it!" She felt fury rise in her voice. "You don't know what it's like! You could never know! Can't you just trust me? Can't you just believe in me, that I know how to handle my own feelings?!"  
  
Mrs. McGuire's eyes glimmered with hurt. She said nothing.  
  
"I know you must be hurting, Lizzie," said Mr. McGuire, trying to stay calm. "You must be in alot of pain to do these things to yourself. But there are other ways."  
  
Lizzie swallowed a lump in her throat and blinked away tears. "Sure, Dad. You just know all about it, don't you?" Her tone was harsh and sarcastic. "I'm just stupid little Lizzie. I don't know anything. Everyone always knows what's best for me, don't they?"  
  
"That's not what I said..."  
  
"But it's what you meant!" Lizzie stood up and flung her arms into the air. "I can't stand this! It's my body! I can do whatever I want with it!" Mr. McGuire was silent. He and his wife sat holding hands on the couch, intense pain in their eyes. Lizzie softened her voice a bit. "Look, I never meant to hurt you guys. But... But I'm not DOING anything to you guys. This is about me, okay? I need to do this."  
  
"When you hurt, we hurt, baby," said Mrs. McGuire desperately. "If you would just let us help you..."  
  
Lizze found herself unable to hold in her emotions; she burst into tears. "No! I don't need any help! I've already figured it all out. THIS is what I need to do to make everything okay. It's the one thing that keeps me in control of my feelings. And you want me to stop, don't you? YOU WANT TO TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME!" She turned and ran out of the living room. Mr. and Mrs. McGuire tried to go after her and console her, but their words weren't heard over the sound of Lizzie's crying. 


	19. Gordo and Miranda

After school, Miranda and Gordo went straight to the McGuire's' house. Gordo rang the doorbell and the two of them waited nervously. Mr. McGuire opened the door.  
  
"Hey guys," he said with a bit of solemnity in his voice. "Come on inside."  
  
"Is Lizzie okay?" Miranda and Gordo asked in unison once they were in the house.  
  
"We don't really know." He sighed heavily, and his eyes had a faraway look to them. "We tried talking to her this morning, but she got upset and ran to her room. She hasn't come down all day."  
  
Mrs. McGuire walked into the room, looking tired. "Would you two try talking to her? She won't come out for us, but maybe she'll listen to her friends."  
  
Gordo and Miranda nodded. "We thought we'd try and take her somewhere," said Gordo. "To try and get her mind off things."  
  
"We were thinking something like bowling," said Miranda. Miranda had always had the firm belief that bowling was a therapeutic and spiritual experience that could cure any ailment.  
  
Mrs. McGuire nodded. "It's worth a shot. I'm willing to try anything to get our Lizzie back."  
  
Gordo and Miranda proceeded quietly and nervously upstairs. They knocked on Lizzie's door, and received no answer. Gordo tried turning the knob, but the door was locked.  
  
"Lizzie?" he said. "It's us. Can we come in?"  
  
Still no answer.  
  
"Please, Lizzie," said Miranda. "We just want to see how you're doing. You don't have to talk if you don't want to, just let us see you."  
  
Silence for a moment longer. Then a clicking noise, and the door swung open. Gordo and Miranda entered the bedroom, and Lizzie sat back down on her bed. She didn't make eye contact with them.  
  
"Are you feeling better?" asked Miranda. Lizzie shrugged.  
  
"Lizzie, why..." Gordo began, but Miranda held up a hand to silence him. He understood.  
  
"We understand if you don't want to talk about it." This was a lie; they both wanted her to talk about it more than anything. But they knew if they really wanted to help her, they had to be patient. Bombarding her with questions wasn't going to do any good, Miranda had warned Gordo before they came. Girls hate talking about these sorts of things. "We thought maybe you'd like to get out of the house for awhile. Why don't you come bowling with us?"  
  
Lizzie continued to stare at the floor, not saying anything. Gordo looked at Miranda; Miranda shrugged. The three friends sat for a moment in an unpleasant silence.  
  
"Okay," said Lizzie finally. Her voice was flat, devoid of feeling. "Let's go." She would have liked to stay and sleep this all away, but she'd been locked up in her room all day and didn't think she could stand it any longer. She wanted to be away from her parents for a while.  
  
Mr. McGuire was glad to drive them to the bowling alley. He, Gordo, and Miranda made a few feeble attempts at conversation, but Lizzie seemed intent on saying as little as possible. It was a quiet ride.  
  
"Have fun, kids," said Mr. McGuire in vain. The three of them nodded vaguely and entered the bowling alley.  
  
Lizzie still didn't say a word as they slipped on brightly colored bowling shoes and set themselves up at a lane.  
  
"Anyone want some snacks before we start?" asked Gordo. Miranda shot him an ungodly glare, and he realized that "food" wasn't a very good topic to bring up, given the situation. Lizzie, however, didn't seem to care or even notice what he'd said. She sat in her plastic chair and stared blankly at the lane.  
  
"You want to go first, Lizzie?" asked Miranda.  
  
Lizzie shrugged. She stood up and grabbed a bowling bowl from the rack. She rolled it down the lane: gutter ball. Another roll, another gutter ball, she sat down. Gordo and Miranda took their turns, trying to chat and have fun as they did. Lizzie wasn't taking the bait. She sat silently and seemed to be in a world all her own.  
  
"I'm sorry, I can't take this anymore," said Gordo at last. "We have to talk about this. We just have to."  
  
Lizzie sighed. "There isn't anything to talk about. I wish everyone would just back off. Why do you even care?"  
  
"We care because we're your friends!" said Miranda in shock. She had never seen Lizzie with such a negative attitude since the time she started hanging out with Angel Leiberman.  
  
"That's what you say, but I don't really know anymore."  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
Lizzie said nothing in response.  
  
"Look, the fact of the matter is," said Gordo, "you're hurting yourself. And we don't want to see you hurt yourself."  
  
Lizzie looked away as she spoke. "You don't even know what real hurting really is. My body can take it, okay? I know what I'm doing."  
  
"But that's just it: you're body can't take it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Lizzie rolled her eyes. "I've been doing some research on this, and what you have is a very dangerous disease. Every time you make yourself throw up, the gastric juices from your stomach are damaging your esophagus and the inside of your mouth. You're basically destroying your insides. You're also depleting your body of all of its nutrients. It can cause all kinds of problems. And if it's really your weight that you're so considered about, you should know that this isn't helping you at all. Depriving your body of food only makes it go into survival mode, meaning it slows down your metabolism to make the most of what little food you're getting."  
  
Lizzie still wouldn't look him in the eye. "Yeah. Whatever."  
  
Gordo threw up his hands. "Lizzie, there's just no reason for you to do this! How can you ignore the simple facts of science?"  
  
"How can you base everything on simple facts? Science doesn't answer everything, Gordo. Sorry to burst your bubble, but science and simple facts can't fix me. You just don't understand. I'd rather be hurting my body than just hurting." She spoke quieter. "Nobody understands."  
  
"That doesn't make any sense, Lizzie, and you know it," said Miranda, sitting down next to her. "Remember in middle school, when I was starving myself? You were the one who made me see how stupid I was acting, Lizzie. Punishing your body isn't the way to make bad feelings go away. We're here for you, Lizzie. Whenever your hurting you can come to us. That's what you told me, remember?"  
  
"Things change," was Lizzie's clipped reply. "You guys say you're here for me, but you really aren't. Things have changed since high school started. You guys are always off with your new friends, doing your own thing. Everyone has their thing, but not me. I've always struggled to be my own person, but all this time I've only barely been keeping up. I can't keep up with everyone else any more."  
  
Miranda placed an arm around Lizzie. "We're sorry. Maybe we haven't been the best friends this year. But that doesn't mean we're not here for you. We still care about you, and we want to help you."  
  
Lizzie shoved away Miranda's arm. "If you want to help me, you'll support me in my decision."  
  
"Decision? You call hurting yourself to make the pain go away a decision?" There was a moment of dark silence. "Lizzie, I mean... You don't want to keep living like this, do you?"  
  
Lizzie looked up suddenly, and met Miranda's concerned brown eyes. She looked over at Gordo and met his eyes as well. Tears threatened to build up in her eyes. She swallowed hard, not allowing herself to cry. Her voice was barely audible as she spoke. "No. I don't want to keep doing this. Of course I want to stop. But it's just... it's not that simple. I've been trying to quit for weeks, but I can't. If I'm not hurting myself, I'm hurting myself. Do you understand?"  
  
Miranda and Gordo could think of nothing to say.  
  
"Listen, don't worry about me. I'll be okay. Okay?" Miranda and Gordo didn't seem to believe her, but they didn't argue. "I... I need to think. I've got to go." She stood up. "I'm going to get a snack; I haven't eaten all day. Please don't follow me. I just need to be alone for a minute." She turned away from them and walked quickly away.  
  
"Just don't puke it up," Gordo called after her without much tact. Miranda gave him a look. He shrugged innocently. "What?" 


	20. Guidance From An Unlikely Source

Lizzie walked up to the concession area, fighting the urge to cry with all her might. She sat down at one of the plastic tables with no intention of eating at all. Tears slid quietly down her exhausted face. She pulled a paper napkin out of the dispenser and wiped her cheeks. Just when she thought she had it all figured out, her parents and friends were making every thing complicated. They made it sound like it was so easy to give up the things she'd been doing. They made it sound like quitting was the right thing to do.  
  
But it wasn't. At least, she didn't think it was. What was more important, her mind or her body? Why did she even have to choose? It was all so unfair. She felt confused. More tears continued to pour, and she pulled out more napkins to dry them.  
  
She thought back to her dream of Aunt Laura and the melting paints. "Paint what's inside your head," Laura had told her. When Lizzie replied that she couldn't do that, Laura asked her to paint the outside instead. But Lizzie could that, either. Both mind and body were painful to express. She tried to pinpoint the exact moment in her mind when she'd suddenly become so unsure of her identity. Was it when high school started? No, she thought, it must have started much sooner than then. Was it on the last day of middle school, when Ethan broke up with her? No, things didn't start to go crazy until long after she'd gotten over that. It seemed impossible to mark the change that had happened in her. In her mind, it felt as though she'd always been this way: lost and unhappy. But surely that wasn't right. Surely there had been a time when Lizzie was herself, when she was happy. If only things could go back to the way they'd once been.  
  
Her head dropped to the table, and she buried her face in her arms and cried. She suddenly became aware of someone else sitting beside her at the table, but she did not look up. She was in no mood to talk to Gordo or Miranda just then. "I told you guys not to follow me," she said loudly, her voice muffled by her arms.  
  
"I didn't follow you, dawg," said a familiar voice. "I just saw you sitting here."  
  
Lizzie immediately lifted her head. "Ethan? What are you doing here?"  
  
Ethan stared blankly. "I'm bowling, dude. I came to get some Mega-Nachos." He looked around at all the wadded up napkins on the table and scratched his head. "That's a lot of napkins for someone who's not eating anything."  
  
Lizzie laughed softly at Ethan's naiveté; it was the first time she'd laughed in a long time. "I guess you're right." She wiped her cheek.  
  
A light bulb came on above Ethan's head. "Have you been crying, dawg?"  
  
Lizzie looked over at Ethan, whose eyes were vast with unknowingness but warm with concern at the same time. She thought vaguely of how he was one of the people who had made her feel so insecure. What was it about him, she wondered, that she was so afraid of facing? He seemed almost harmless now. She nodded slowly.  
  
Ethan frowned. "I heard you got sick yesterday at the Digital Bean and passed out. Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine now." She paused and sniffled. "Actually... No. I'm not okay, not really. But there's not anything I can do about it."  
  
"You should eat saltine crackers."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"That's what my mom always gives me when I'm sick, man. Saltine crackers. They settle your stomach and all that."  
  
Lizzie shook her head. "I don't think crackers are going to settle anything for me. I'm a different kind of sick."  
  
"Really? Like how?"  
  
Lizzie took in a deep breath. Ethan was the last person she wanted to discuss her problems with, except maybe Kate. But for some reason, she found herself pouring everything out. She told him about her summer vacation, and gaining weight, and getting lost in the sea of high school, and throwing up, and over-exerting, and being confused, and sitting with Jill Stokes, and the dream she had after she'd passed out. She told him about her parents, and Gordo and Miranda, and how she didn't know what to do with herself. She spilled out the whole sad story for him, stopping only occasionally for air. By the time she'd finished, she noticed that tears had been pouring down her face and she hadn't even noticed.  
  
Ethan's brow was curled in confusion as he tried to soak everything in. "That doesn't sound like you, Lizzie. I always thought you were smart and stuff."  
  
This didn't make Lizzie feel any better. She whimpered and more tears fell. "Yeah, well, it's not that simple. You don't get it."  
  
"I guess not. I've always fit in, so I guess I can't really symp-- symphony? Er, symp--"  
  
"Sympathize?" she said coldly. Could he be any more insensitive? thought Lizzie. She found herself crying even louder.  
  
"Yeah, that's it. Sympathize. Lizzie, did you become bulexic or whatever just coz you wanted to be popular?"  
  
She sniffled and yanked more napkins out of the dispenser. "No. I mean, sort of... I didn't really care about being popular. I just wanted to be me."  
  
At this comment, Ethan nearly went cross-eyed. He seemed to be genuinely confused. "Well, you are you, aren't you?"  
  
"I don't know any more."  
  
"Hmmmm..." There seemed to be nothing else to say between the two former friends and partners. Ethan stared off into space for a moment, and Lizzie figured she'd lost him. His short attention span had probably caused him to tune into something completely different, like a fly buzzing around someone's nachos on the other side of the room. Oh, well. It wasn't like she'd asked for his company, anyway. Furthermore, he was only being rude. Where did he get the audacity to try and analyze her problems, to try and make sense of it all, when even she and her closest friends and parents weren't able to do it? *Everyone thinks they know,* she thought. *But they don't. It's hopeless.*  
  
Ethan snapped back suddenly, and Lizzie found herself staring him in the eye. "You know what I think, Lizzie?" His eyes were intense, and she felt subdued under their gaze. She shook her head distractedly. "I think maybe... Maybe you're just such an awesome person, and you never gave yourself credit for it, so you just couldn't accept how awesome you were. And that's why you don't know who you are."  
  
Lizzie exhaled and rolled her eyes. *And for a minute there I almost thought he was going to say something profound,* she thought cynically. She spoke curtly. "Well, thanks for that Ethan, but I don't think that covers it by a long shot."  
  
"No, wait." He rubbed his temple, as if this were requiring much more thought than he was used to. "I said that wrong. I know I'm not smart like you, Lizzie, but I know what I'm talking about. I've never known anyone like you before. You're so on it, man. You can take anyone, no matter who they are, and fix their problems or make them feel better."  
  
Lizzie choked on tears yet again. For a long time now she would have given anything to hear Ethan Craft compliment her, but she knew she shouldn't let herself listen. He was just saying things to make her feel better, that was all. He didn't mean it. "I can't fix anyone's problems, Ethan. I'm just one big problem myself."  
  
"But why? Maybe there's something I'm not getting, but it seems to me like you just need to get over it and be happy with who you are. It's like in that book, James and the Giant Peach. James had these two really evil aunts that were mean to him, but he never stood up to them because they always told him how lame he was. But once he got that peach, he realized it didn't matter what anyone else said as long as he had confidence in who he was. He stopped listening to what other people said."  
  
Lizzie let out an exasperated sigh. What did she ever see in this guy? He was obviously dumber than she thought, if he was giving out lifestyle philosophies based on children's books. "Listen, Ethan, I'd better get back to my friends, they're waiting on me..."  
  
"Okay," said Ethan. "But, uh, don't go and hurt yourself anymore. All right?"  
  
*Yeah, right,* thought Lizzie. *If only it was that easy.* "What does it matter if I do, Ethan?"  
  
"All I'm saying is... You don't need that. You can have everything you want, as long as you have confidence in who you are. It doesn't matter who you are, as long you're something. I know what you are, Lizzie McGuire. You're a great person. It's not like life is going to be easy or anything, but if you try to be someone else, it's only going to make things harder. Just, don't listen to the evil aunts out there. Take charge of the giant peach, man."  
  
She wanted to scream. She was so tired of everyone else having the answers. Her parents had their way of making her feel miserable about everything she did; they flipped things around to make it their problem instead of hers. Gordo had his all-knowing scientific reasoning; Miranda had her "first-hand" experience. Jill Stokes gave everything the "suck it up and screw the world" approach. Aunt Laura's philosophy was always that everything would be okay, and to have another cookie.  
  
And now, Ethan Craft? She could barely follow a word he was saying. What on earth was he getting at, talking about peaches and fixing everyone's problems? The whole world seemed to think that problems always have solutions, and that once you found the solution everything was easy after that. What did you do if there was a problem that didn't have a solution? What if the solution just wasn't as easy as everyone wanted it to be?  
  
Ethan told her she could be anyone she wanted to be. The question was, who DID she want to be? She didn't want to be a Kate, she didn't want to be Ethan Craft's girlfriend or be popular. That had gotten her nowhere before. She didn't want to be Chubby McGuire, and wear baggy clothes and sit with Jill Stokes. It wasn't in her to be so moody all the time. She decided that all she really wanted to be was Lizzie McGuire: advice-giver to all, best friend of Gordo and Miranda, lover of chocolate chip cookies. When everything was said and done, she wanted to be right back where she started. But was that even possible now? She had fallen into a routine of pain and self-hate, and as much as she wanted it to end, she knew it wouldn't be easy to let go of her comfort-methods.  
  
For reasons unknown to her, Lizzie threw her arms around Ethan and pulled him into an embrace. She had cried so much that day she thought she couldn't shed another tear, but sure enough she found herself soaking Ethan's shoulder with tears. He didn't say anything while she let her emotions pour out, and she was grateful for that. It could have been anyone's arms she was in, not necessarily Ethan's; all she wanted was to have someone hold her. She needed someone who didn't have all the answers to tell her that she was "awesome" and that she needed to just be happy with who she was. In his blunt naiveté, Ethan had reminded her of things she once knew so well. It doesn't matter what you look like. It doesn't matter who you eat lunch with. It doesn't matter what anyone says or does, as long as you stay true to who you are.  
  
"Lizzie, are you okay?" said a concerned voice. Lizzie broke away from Ethan and saw Miranda and Gordo standing by the table. They had apparently gotten worried she'd gone off and done something to herself.  
  
"I'm fine," Lizzie replied, wiping her raw face. The corner of her mouth formed a half-smile, and it seemed as though this time she just might have meant what she said.  
  
"You're parents are here to pick us up," said Miranda quietly, pointing in the direction of the door. Lizzie looked over and saw her mom and dad standing in the lobby of the bowling alley, expectant looks upon their faces. Glancing over at her two best friends, she saw the same look of uncertainty. They were all wondering, waiting for Lizzie to give them answers.  
  
"Thanks, Ethan," she said to the boy beside her. "I think I'm going to, uh, take charge of the peach now."  
  
Ethan grinned goofily. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, dawg."  
  
She looked over at Gordo and Miranda, who seemed confused. She ran to them and hugged them. They were both taken aback. They had no idea what had come over her, but at that point it didn't seem to matter. They were just glad that she was finally responding.  
  
Lizzie walked, arms wrapped around her two best friends, over to her parents. There would have to be more talking. There would probably be more tears and hurting, too. Her disease would probably bring many more obstacles to overcome. It wasn't going to be easy; it never had been. But maybe, she thought, just maybe... If she could just be Lizzie, maybe she could make things right again. 


End file.
